


Unmonstrous

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Clones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Healing, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Keith (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Post-Canon, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: When Shiro learns of another facility of his clones, he can't help but think about all the ways his fight with Keith could have gone, and all the ways he could have destroyed his one happiness.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 75
Kudos: 267





	Unmonstrous

**Author's Note:**

> This fic stemmed from something I was going to incorporate into my "Shiro goes to therapy" fic but ended up setting aside since it didn't quite fit as tonally (and the whole clone thing deserves far more attention that I would have been able to give it in that fic). Even here, I feel like I only scratched the surface, but I tried a slightly different writing style for this one... idk it was an experiment but an interesting writing exercise. 
> 
> **Mind the tags.** While instances of violence, death, and suicidal ideation are all slight (nothing graphic), they are still present in this fic. If you're sensitive to those sorts of things, please be mindful before reading.

Shiro knows something’s wrong when Kolivan comes to find him first. 

Not that Kolivan doesn’t speak with him one-on-one, because he does— especially now that Shiro has officially passed his Trials for the Blades and works alongside Keith as his partner. But Kolivan has his ways and tends to relay information to Shiro through Keith, or maybe occasionally Krolia. When he speaks with Shiro, it’s usually about other things, not anything mission-specific. When he speaks to Shiro, it’s usually when Keith is there with him, too. Even with the war officially over, it’s hard to shake the ancient spy organization from Kolivan’s veins. It’s his tendency to compartmentalize information, minimize how many people know what and when. 

So if he’s coming to Shiro directly, it’s something that only Shiro needs to know about. 

“You better come with me,” Kolivan says in lieu of greeting. 

Shiro rises to his feet, feeling graceless as he tucks his blade away. The Blades are still adapting to their new humanitarian mission, to accepting those without Galra-blood, and Shiro’s only had his new blade for a couple days. It even transforms with his quintessence, after some trial and error to create swords that would activate for non-Galra. It’s a heavy weight at Shiro’s side and one he’s still getting used to. He hasn’t used it yet, the blade more symbolic than anything else, but it’s not something Shiro wants to take lightly. He doesn’t want to take _any_ of this lightly. 

“What is it?” he asks Kolivan once they’ve walked a few paces. He looks around to make sure nobody else is nearby, as he’s sure that will influence whether Kolivan actually tells him anything. 

Kolivan walks a few more paces and then halts, turning back to Shiro. “We have found one of you.” 

Shiro makes a sound of confusion. 

“Coordinates,” Kolivan says. “To a facility.” 

“What do you— oh,” Shiro says, cutting off abruptly as the words settle and coalesce: a cloning facility. A chill ripples down his spine and he feels, suddenly, like ice. 

He’s developed a good poker face over the years, but he’s sure his expression must betray everything in this moment.

“I don’t assign missions to Blades who are too emotionally connected to the task,” Kolivan says, voice neutral. “But given your circumstances, I felt it best that you know about it and decide the best course of action.” 

Shiro can’t read Kolivan’s expression at all. He’s seen Kolivan smile before— albeit usually only to Antok, or maybe to Krolia and Keith— but otherwise he’s inscrutable. Maybe this is why information usually gets relayed through Keith. Keith can probably read Kolivan, or at least translate the tone of the words as he delivers them to Shiro.

Maybe Kolivan doesn’t tell Shiro information directly because he’s still figuring out if he can trust him. Shiro doesn’t blame him for that. Caution is the smartest action, really. 

He might think and hope he’s loyal, that he’s himself, but he also hoped and thought that in the past, too. And look where that’s gotten him: Speaking with Kolivan about the coordinates to a cloning facility full of his own clones. 

“I— yes,” Shiro says, his voice sounding far too hollow and wooden to his own ears. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll— take care of it. I’ll forward a mission outline to your PADD.”

Kolivan nods, his pupilless eyes betraying nothing. “I will wait on your word for how to proceed.” 

Shiro nods and turns. He wanders back to his quarters. He’s halfway there before he remembers he forgot to say goodbye or thank Kolivan for informing him. He hopes that Kolivan might understand, given the circumstances. 

-

Keith slips back into their room a few vargas later, returning from training new recruits. He looks worn but triumphant, his eyes glittering, and it’s clear that Kolivan hasn’t said anything to him about the news. The strange glow of the Blades’ base of operations casts shadows across his face, but it just makes him look so much more handsome. 

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith greets. 

He drops a kiss to Shiro’s forehead, sweet and easy, like it’s as second-nature to Keith as breathing. It makes Shiro’s heart squeeze tight in his chest. Keith looks at him then, and then at his supplies laid out on their floor as Shiro sits cross-legged and takes stock. 

“You have a mission?” Keith asks. He looks confused, stepping over to examine Shiro’s supplies.

Shiro’s had a few missions since joining the Blades, but they’ve all been with Keith as his Blade partner. It’s not something they’ve explicitly requested, but it’s how it’s happened. He knows that Kolivan dislikes sending out _mated pairs_ (as he calls them), afraid of what that’ll mean for his deeply entrenched _the mission above all else_ guidelines that don’t quite translate when doing humanitarian work. But Kolivan’s deeply entrenched guidelines can’t outweigh Keith’s desire to have Shiro close. 

“Yeah,” Shiro says. He pauses. He takes a deep breath. “Kolivan’s scouts picked up some coordinates for— for some of my clones.” 

He says it neutrally, but Keith still sucks in a sharp, shocked breath as the words settle between them. 

“What?” 

Shiro shrugs. 

“Shiro—” 

“I’m waiting for more information from Kolivan,” Shiro says. “He’s waiting on my mission plan before I go.” He bites his lip, his heart flurrying in his chest, and looks up at Keith. “Come here, Keith?” 

Keith goes to him, immediate and unhesitating. He curls around Shiro protectively, hunching over as he holds him. Shiro sits on the floor, leaning into Keith’s space, his face pressing against his belly. He breathes in, that familiar scent that’s simply Keith. His hands cup around him, holding him close. 

“What can I do?” Keith asks. 

He’s so fiercely loyal sometimes that it stuns Shiro. He doesn’t even know how to respond to the words. He knows he’ll take Keith with him, knows that Keith’s already planning their move. Shiro doesn’t even have to ask, although he’ll ask anyway.

“Just want you close,” Shiro says. 

“I’m here,” Keith whispers. 

Shiro looks up at him with a smile that nearly reaches his eyes. “Kiss me?” 

“Shiro,” Keith says and drops down into Shiro’s lap. He settles there easily, cupping Shiro’s face and kissing him. It’s a tender kiss, lingering and sweet. The way Keith is, really. Shiro loves kissing him, will never get tired of kissing him. He’ll spend the rest of his life thrilled that he gets to have this with Keith. 

Keith parts from the kiss, thumbs stroking across Shiro’s cheeks, skirting the edge of where his scar begins on either side of his nose. Keith’s expression is gentle, although Shiro can see the lingering concern lurking in his eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keith asks. He brushes the hair from Shiro’s face, the touch soothing. 

Shiro shakes his head. 

“Tell me about training,” Shiro says. He needs the distraction and he knows Keith will accept it. “How’d it go today, baby?” 

He likes calling Keith that, to watch the way Keith shivers over the pet name. Usually Shiro simply saying Keith’s name will make him react more, but occasionally the blush will settle high on his cheeks whenever Shiro calls him _baby_ instead. Shiro tries not to overdo it for that reason. It’s precious. 

“You really want to hear about that?” Keith asks rhetorically with a fond roll of his eyes. They both know the question for the distraction that it is, but Keith’s willing to give it to him anyway. He runs his fingers through Shiro’s hair.

Over the past couple years, Keith’s been growing into his Galraness. His nails are more like claws most days, although Keith files them down. He scritches through Shiro’s hair, massaging his scalp, and it sends pinpricks of pleasure goosebumping his skin. He slides his hands up Keith’s back gratefully. 

Keith tells him about training the new recruits— how he fought a few of them to show some pointers, how they’re sloppy but passionate, and how they’re coming along nicely. Shiro loves listening to Keith talk about things like this, how he can take pride in the work he’s doing, feel confident in his self-worth. That’s all Shiro’s ever wanted for Keith. 

He likes to just listen to Keith talk sometimes. Sometimes, if he’s sleepy enough, he can’t even really comprehend what Keith is saying— just finding comfort in the way his voice washes over him. He loves the nights he gets to fall asleep to Keith’s voice, soothing and serene. He always sleeps well then. 

He touches Keith’s back and draws him in closer, swallowing Keith’s words with a press of his lips to his. Keith sighs, sinking against him, a pleasant weight in Shiro’s arms. 

-

Shiro hates the feeling of suspension. He hates how it crawls under his skin. There’s a lack of control here, and he hates it— hates how much his body isn’t really his own, even now. How everything so easily fragments. 

He gets a long life with Keith, yes, and he’s grateful for it, but it’s at the expense of so much. 

Shiro doesn’t like to think about it too deeply. It’s the strange mix of advanced science and space magic, so many things splintering together. A body fighting in an arena, cut to pieces. A body evaporated, a soul left adrift in the astral plane. Transplantation of a soul into a body, the way two souls— the same souls, supposedly— mesh together into something whole again. 

A healed body, even. A disease wiped away as if it were never there, all the rough parts of him smoothed over, as if to say, _It was never really here. You suffered for no reason._

Shiro doesn’t miss his disease, but he hates that it was robbed from him without notice. Hates that Haggar’s manipulations meant an erasing. He never defined himself by his disease, but sometimes its absence feels like an insult more than reprieve. 

_You suffered, you continued to suffer— and it was for nothing._

He knows it’s not so simple. It’s complicated. He knows to some extent, Keith can understand it, too— how one moment he thinks of himself as human, took that much for granted, and the next, an ancestry he never knew is thrown into sharp focus. 

He knows Keith resists the dismissiveness of others, how people explain away what makes Keith uniquely Keith as, _Oh, that’s just a Galra thing influencing you._ That it is somehow that he is alien, that he is other, that explains why sometimes he gets overwhelmed by too much sensory information, or how it’s hard for him to look someone in the eye sometimes. Because he is _alien_ and not because he is Keith. Spoken as if it is wrong. Spoken as if he is not normal. 

Their dreams have always been the stars, but the cosmos have given them just as much pain as it has given them joy. 

Regardless, Shiro types up his mission proposal to send to Kolivan and struggles to make a coherent picture of all the fragments splintering around him. 

There’s one thought he keeps revolving, again and again, picking at it like a wound that won’t heal: _What if you were still under someone else’s control?_

He hates to think of the clones. He hates to think of himself as a clone. 

_What if?_

The problem with that thought, of course, is that Shiro can make a reasonable guess at the answer. He knows what it would look like. He knows what he could do now, if the right code is whispered inside his head, if his power and control is wrenched away from him again. 

-

Back then, it could have been like this: 

Haggar makes the switch in his head and Shiro loses control. He leaves the Castle a mess, a kill code counting down to suffocate them all, to eliminate the Paladins of Voltron. 

He leads Keith to the cloning facility, one of several, and kills him there. 

Shiro grieves the only way he can. Beneath all the layers of control and anger and rage forced upon him, he knows what he’s doing. He can see it and can’t stop it. He knows that he isn’t real, that he is a facsimile of a man likely dead. He knows he’s just killed his friends. That he just killed the love of his life. 

He grieves, and then Haggar drags her claws inside his brain, extinguishing him— the last human Paladin, gone forever. If he could even be called human now. 

-

Or it’d be like this: 

Shiro grieves, but Haggar drags her claws inside his brain and turns him to other pursuits: the perfect weapon, finally, whatever it is she wanted him for.

He knows everything he’s done, buried deep beneath the surface, felt like an echo beneath the ocean of manipulation, preventing him from breaking free. 

He fights and he fights and he fights for the witch, never made to properly mourn the lives he’s destroyed. 

-

Or like this:

Maybe nobody would have known. 

A little accident here or there. A badly timed fight, a well-placed attack. One Paladin falls and the others mourn, never knowing there was sabotage. 

Shiro acts like he’s always acted, always himself, never suspecting what he is, what he’s capable of. He’d laugh with his friends when they could, as each of them died off one by one, always seemingly by accident. Haggar would have him go for Allura first, maybe. Or Pidge. 

Maybe even Keith first when he returned. 

Shiro wouldn’t even know. He’d hold Keith in his arms, smiling against his temple, imagining what it’s like to be with him forever, in a perfect world where they _get_ forever. There’d be no dramatic shifts in his personality, just the odd places where Haggar exerts more control. 

Shiro would kiss Keith and it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter to Haggar if Shiro was fond of Keith, if he liked Keith, if he loved Keith with everything his soul contained. Keith would be a means to an end, an opportunity to destroy the Paladins from the inside out. Keith would be someone to make weak, to play his weaknesses against him— to use his love for Shiro as a weapon. 

Maybe that.

-

In their little quarters on the Blades base, kissing Keith becomes more than simply kissing Keith, as tends to be the case. In the aftermath, Keith lays against Shiro’s chest, warm and heavy, sticky with sweat. Shiro traces his fingers along the faintest lines of stripes that ghost over Keith’s back, a consequence of his ever-evolving Galra features. Keith shivers at the touch, wriggling as Shiro’s hands drag to cup his hips. Keith kisses a bruise on his collarbone, left by too-sharp fangs. 

“You can talk to me about it if you need to,” Keith says, lifting his head. His hair tumbles past his shoulders, brushing across Shiro’s chest. 

Shiro doesn’t answer at first, focusing on collecting Keith’s long hair in his hands, curling his fingers. He’ll braid Keith’s hair for him before they leave, but for now he likes the way it makes Keith look wild, his hair an unruly mane around him. 

“I know,” Shiro says and kisses Keith, lingering. He presses his forehead to Keith’s, his nose nudging against his. “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Keith grumbles at the pet name, cheeks turning pink, and tries to muffle his smile despite his concern. Shiro swipes his thumb across Keith’s lips and Keith kisses the pad of it for his troubles. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro says. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” 

Instead of rising to the bait, Keith kisses him again, just a peck, and murmurs, “Are you really okay?” 

It’s a hard question to answer. Most of the time, it’s a yes and a no for Shiro. He is okay, he is surviving, he is _alive_ , but at the back of his mind he always knows the cost of that truth, knows what’s happened to make it so that he _is_ okay, surviving, and alive. All the sacrifices. All the pain. 

He doesn’t know what’s going to be waiting for him at the cloning facility. He doesn’t know what that’ll mean. It’s good that it’s only Kolivan who knows, and now only Shiro and Keith. Shiro can destroy the clones and nobody will ever know. 

But Shiro doesn’t know if he wants to destroy them. He doesn’t know if he _can_ destroy them— if that’s the right thing to do. He doesn’t know what’s expected in this situation, has nothing in his past experiences he can turn to.

“I’m always okay when I look at you,” Shiro says.

Keith huffs. His fingers tangle in Shiro’s hair and tug, just on the edge of too-sharp. “Only okay? That’s rude.” 

It wins a laugh from Shiro, bubbling out of him. He plays with Keith’s hair, thumb swiping across his jaw when he gets too close. “Everything is better when you’re with me, Keith.” 

“You too,” Keith says and sighs. “Even when you’re being stubborn and dodging my question.” 

Shiro flinches, mouth tilting into an apologetic smile. 

“I love you, anyway,” Keith says, cupping Shiro’s face and kissing him, his breath ghosting across his lips. “I love you so much, Shiro.” 

“Me too, Keith,” Shiro says back, his thumb slotting into the place on Keith’s cheek where the scar Shiro gave him digs in, still a stark red even after so much time. Shiro doubts it’ll ever fully heal. “I love you.”

Keith cups his hand over Shiro’s, turning his face to press a kiss to the center of his palm.

-

Or it could have been like this:

Shiro leads Keith to the cloning facility, intending to fight, intending to kill. _Neither one of us is leaving._

Even then, Haggar knew she’d extinguish the clone once its job was done. There wouldn’t be enough quintessence left after exerting all this control. Oh, how Shiro fought her at first, how he felt her screaming through his head.

There were warning signs leading up to it all, of course. But there’s no logical reason anyone’s thought would go to, _You are not really you._ When one says they do not feel like themselves, that doesn’t mean the next logical thought is _I’m a clone._ Shiro knew something was wrong, but that never would have been his guess. 

And there, on the platform, he’d run his sword through Keith. His sword is pure energy, after all, pure corrupted quintessence. Even if Keith could survive a stab straight into his gut, crackling energy that cauterizes the wound, he’d never survive corrupt energy pouring into him. 

He'd look at Shiro as the life drained from him, and then he’d be dead and, with him, the last of Shiro dead, too. Whatever was left of either of them. Gone. 

-

No. That’s too unrealistic. 

Keith was determined at the start, focused on disarming Shiro and bringing him back. He wouldn’t have left himself open to such a simple mistake. He wasn’t fatigued yet, still hopeful. He wouldn’t have fallen onto Shiro’s sword because Keith never gives up. _I will never give up on you—_

Keith sleeps beside him, his chest rising and falling with his breath. His arm is wrapped around Shiro’s waist, holding him even in sleep. He’s relaxed, his face soft, his hair a mess. 

Shiro reaches out, his hand touching Keith’s neck, his throat. He touches the spots where he’s left bruises on Keith’s skin, always low enough to hide beneath the collar of Keith’s Senior Blade robes. 

Shiro doesn’t like to hurt Keith, not even bruises from bites. He loves it when Keith covers him in bites and nips, loves having that visual proof that he belongs to Keith. But it feels too close to a brutal, almost-reality when he leaves marks on Keith, when he hurts him. 

Shiro doesn’t want to be cruel. He doesn’t want to hurt Keith. He knows how to kill so many different alien species— better to go for the neck in a human, but the gut for an Olkari, the heart of a Galra. He’s lost track of how many people he’s killed, in the arena, behind the controls of a Lion, at the helm of Atlas. It doesn’t matter. 

He touches Keith’s throat, tracing his fingers over his skin. Keith doesn’t wake. He murmurs Shiro’s name and shifts closer, utterly trusting. 

Keith has always trusted Shiro. 

He feels his heart twist tight in his chest. He flinches away, hand drawing from Keith. 

-

Later, once Keith wakes, they pack up their supplies. An unease settles in Shiro’s stomach as he loads up Atlas— a liberated Atlas, transformed into something smaller that fits the Blades, having run after Shiro when he left with Keith. He feels her in the back of his mind, stirring and curious when she senses his anxiety. He ignores her in favor of checking the life support systems, making sure everything is in place before he and Keith head out. 

It's just him and Keith for this mission. Scouting to start, then pending further action. Shiro still doesn’t know what he wants to do, if there’s anything he _can_ do, when he sees the clones. Kolivan’s given him freedom to decide and that freedom feels suffocating. 

Keith notices his mood. It’s impossible for him not to notice it. 

He doesn’t press Shiro on it— Keith is always good at knowing when to push Shiro and when to let him think through his thoughts. Keith is just there, drifting into Shiro’s orbit with a gentle brush of his hand at his side or his hand grasping his. Shiro steadies himself around Keith’s presence, taking him in, watching the way he looks in the light of the hangar, patting Atlas on her side as they move together, weaving around one another and preparing for their journey. He didn’t even have to ask Keith to come with him. Of course he’s here. 

He braided Keith’s hair for him when they woke. It’s sloppy and uneven, but Keith always likes to have Shiro’s hands on him. He likes the imperfection of the braid once Shiro is done. Shiro never makes the braid tight enough and it often comes loose as the day progresses. But Keith likes it. He likes the gentleness of Shiro’s fingers in his hair, he says. 

“Ready?” Keith asks, once they’re packed up, Atlas thrumming around them and ready to launch. 

He takes Shiro’s hand, squeezing gently. 

Shiro smiles and holds tight. “I’m ready.” 

-

Maybe it’d be like this, then: 

“I love you,” Keith cries out to him, hands tight around his blade, struggling to hold Shiro off. 

Shiro, shocked for a moment perhaps, and then burying it deep. He’d say something cruel— _I never loved you,_ or _I don’t care._

He’d slide through Keith then, using that moment of involuntary reaction from Keith to finally, finally push past his defenses. He’d wrap his hands around Keith’s neck and break him, the last image of Keith nothing but open hurt and betrayal.

And then Shiro wouldn’t feel anything. 

-

No. Not so simple. 

_I don’t care,_ he’d say, maybe, and Keith would cry out and push up. He’d aim to slice Shiro’s arm, but he’d be too frantic, too hurt. He’d cut Shiro down instead, eliminating the threat. 

-

No. Even more unrealistic. 

Keith would never be so careless, no matter how distressed, when it was a matter of Shiro’s safety. 

Maybe it’d all go the exact same way, except when Shiro’s freed from his arm, when he comes back to himself for that brief moment before Haggar rips all life support from within him, he’d aim to fall onto Keith’s sword instead— save Keith the trouble of saving something that isn’t worth saving. 

Maybe the other half of him would try to save Keith from falling, flying in with Black, and he’d be too late. One half of his soul would die with Keith and the rest of him would be trapped in Black forever, unable to reach anyone else in the universe. 

Maybe he’d save Keith and they’d be here, finally here, going to find Shiro’s clones. Maybe they’d accidentally awaken those clones once they got there, and they’d be bent on attacking, on fighting, on destroying them both. Maybe they’d win. 

Maybe in his dying breath, Keith would look at Shiro and regret having ever saved him.

-

No. Not realistic. Shiro trusts Keith’s love for him. Keith is fire, passion and power. He is everything in the universe. So strong, so passionate, so loyal. 

The sad truth about Keith is, no matter what Shiro does, he’d never regret saving him. Even if he should. Such loyalty makes Shiro want to cry. 

-

“You’re thinking so loudly,” Keith says beside him. He’s piloting Atlas today. Although Atlas responds only to Shiro, even now, she likes Keith. She lets Keith pilot her if Shiro is present, deigning to accept his presence because he is someone precious to Shiro. 

Keith likes to tease that Atlas is jealous. He thinks it’s cute, the same way he thinks it’s cute when the wolf gets huffy at Shiro. It makes Shiro blush to think of the Atlas having a crush on him because it’s such an absurd thought. He can’t convince Keith otherwise, though. Whenever he does tease about it, the Atlas tends to make piloting her all the more difficult. But Keith loves the challenge.

He isn’t teasing today. And Atlas, likely sensing Shiro’s tumultuous thoughts, flies like a dream. 

“I know.” 

“I’m not blaming you,” Keith says, voice soft. He sets Atlas into autopilot and she takes control easily, allowing Keith to swivel in his seat to face Shiro. He reaches for Shiro, taking his hands in his. “Shiro…”

“Hi, baby,” Shiro says, forcing himself to take a breath. The air in the cockpit is cool, the starlight bright around them. Keith’s hands in his are so warm, delicate but strong. Shiro loves Keith’s hands. 

He swipes his thumbs across Keith’s knuckles, just for the sake of touch. 

“Please,” Keith says. “Tell me what I can do.” 

Shiro doesn’t want to lie to Keith. He’s made a habit of being as honest with Keith as possible, even small things like the walls he builds: a smile when he’s feeling unwell, avoiding direct questions, pretending he’s okay. It’s not just that Keith can look through it, but he wants to trust Keith with all the darkest parts of himself. 

“I’ll be fine, Keith.” 

“That isn’t an answer to my question,” Keith says. Shiro doesn’t bother pointing out that Keith didn’t even really ask a question, more a request. The thought is still the same. 

The thing is, Shiro doesn’t want to tell Keith. He doesn’t want Keith to see what’s festering in his mind, all the ugly what-ifs and almosts. He doesn’t want to tell Keith, but he wants Keith to know everything about him. It’s a contradiction, but Shiro’s always been good at being a paradox. 

Shiro doesn’t know how to say what he’s thinking. _What if I’m still under control, somehow? What if all these scenarios I’ve imagined could come true? You trust me, you trust me too much, and what if I betray you again—_

 _What if I’m the monster I always thought I was?_

He knows how Keith would respond to that. But he’s not sure how he’d respond to the truth of that fight at the cloning facility: _I was ready for you to kill me back then. I was waiting for it. I wanted it._

Shiro knows he’ll never really be able to describe the feeling of mind control, of being aware that he is controlled and not caring. Or, how, beneath the surface, he knew himself enough to know what to do. He knew where he was bringing Keith, knew that he wanted Keith to see. He kept waiting for Keith to realize Shiro wasn’t worth it, kept waiting for Keith to let go and end everything. 

Of course Keith didn’t. 

He knows all of this, but he’s put it away, just as he puts away so much else. For another time, for another moment. 

Keith draws Shiro from his thoughts with a gentle squeeze of their hands. When Shiro looks up, Keith leans in to him, pulling him into his arms. It’s an awkward angle for a hug, but Shiro sinks into the hold all the same. He always loves the feeling of being in Keith’s arms, of sinking against him, of pressing so close to him. Like they might absorb into one another and be one full person. 

“I’m just overthinking,” Shiro says and that much is true. 

Keith lifts his hands to cup the back of his head, cradling him close. Shiro isn’t really one to cry, but the way Keith holds him like he’s precious is always the closest Shiro comes to sobbing. He buries his face against Keith’s shoulder. Keith curls around him. 

“I’m here,” Keith says. “I’m here, Shiro.” 

Shiro runs his hands up Keith’s body, touching him. Beloved Keith, really. The center of his entire universe. The love of his life. Shiro never gets tired of thinking that, even if he still has his doubts about being worthy of it. 

He lifts his head to catch Keith’s lips in an easy kiss, craving that touch. 

The thought sinks into his mind: Shiro kissing Keith on the cloning platform, a means of distraction before he sinks his blade into Keith’s chest. He’d never see it coming, really, so focused on kissing Shiro, on hearing Shiro whisper, _I love you, too._

Even then, even when trying to kill Keith, that was the truth: _I will always love you, Keith._

Shiro flinches and draws away from the kiss as the thoughts surface. He doesn’t want to think about killing Keith while kissing him.

“Shiro—” 

“Sorry,” Shiro says, already reaching for Keith again. “It’s not you.” 

Shiro knows from his time in the arena that when you fight, you have to make the person you’re fighting not people. You are a monster and you are fighting other monsters. You kill or be killed. You get thrown back into your cage and know that there’s nothing between being the Champion and being Dead, that one day of bad luck could mean vivisection upon a table. He already lost his arm. 

The unpeopling is a horrible strategy. But a necessary one. In the early days of captivity, Shiro sobbed well into the night, overwhelmed by what he’s done and retching up whatever little food and water he managed to stomach. 

But fighting Keith, he couldn’t make Keith not a person. He couldn’t, not after knowing him for years— his best friend first, someone he loved soon after. Too much history, too much love. He fights Keith and remembers everything. 

To fight is to make himself empty. He is only a weapon. 

It’s how he fought Keith: Keith was a person, a beloved person, but Shiro was a weapon, incapable of minding. 

Keith bled like any other opponent in the arena. 

“ _Shiro,_ ” Keith says, the stress bleeding into the single word. His name.

Shiro looks up. 

Keith looks distressed, his brow furrowed, his lips thinned. “You keep disappearing inside your head.” His touch is soft, far softer than Shiro deserves. “Shiro, please…” 

Keith always knows when to push and when to let Shiro be. He’s pushing now, but even then still only in the gentle way Keith pushes Shiro. 

“Shiro,” Keith says, quieter this time. “I know it’s— so much. I know there’s not anything I can do.” Frustration colors his voice— anger at himself for his own perceived failings. “Please, what can I do?” 

“I’m overthinking,” Shiro says again. He rubs a hand over his eyes, feeling tired. “Clone stuff. I… yeah.” 

“Yeah,” Keith says. “Obviously.” He rises from his seat to stand between the space Shiro makes for him, close enough to cup Shiro’s cheeks and tip his face up to meet him. “Will you please talk with me about it?” 

Shiro nods. He’s silent for a moment, although he knows Keith won’t accept it, but Keith watches him quietly, letting him take his time. His eyes are so fathomless, dark and swirling like the cosmos. In the light of Atlas’ cockpit, Shiro can see the slightest dusting of purple against his skin, feather-down fur starting to grow in. Keith is beautiful. 

He wonders if Keith will look more and more Galra as he grows, or if it’ll stabilize. Shiro gets to find out with all their years together stretching out before them. All because he robbed a body that wasn’t his, a body whose creation he had no choice in. 

“I’m thinking about the past,” Shiro says. 

Keith hums, brow furrowing in confusion. 

Shiro takes a breath. “Our fight.” 

Keith’s fingers slide along his cheeks and up into his hair, rubbing gentle circles in a way that never fails to soothe Shiro. He doesn’t want to be soothed. No. That’s not true. He wants, desperately, to be soothed. 

“We’ve talked about our fight,” Keith says. 

That much is true. They spent hours talking it out, flinching over the more tender parts. Shiro had cried then and so had Keith. They’d held each other, breathing the same air, desperate to feel that the other is alive. Keith never gave up. He was nearly broken for it. Shiro had woken up again, come back, because of Keith. For Keith. 

They saved each other. 

“I know,” Shiro says.

“What about it specifically, then?” Keith asks, petting his fingers through Shiro’s hair. 

“Another clone facility, going there with you— I just,” Shiro rushes out, swallowing around the words that feel too thick, too difficult to let land. “I can’t stop thinking about all the ways things could have happened with the first one— with me.” He wants to curl up and crawl away. “It just keeps replaying, and…” 

Keith lets out a breath. “Oh, Shiro…” 

“And I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I could still kill you,” Shiro says, forcing the words out. 

Keith is silent.

Shiro bites his lip, not looking at Keith. “If things had gone differently, would either of us still be here? Or, if something goes wrong and I lose control again…” 

Keith is still silent. Shiro is silent, too, waiting for Keith’s judgement, his anger, his fear. Anything. He knows, even as he expects it, that Keith would never offer it. Even if he should. Even if he should hate Shiro for all he’s done, for all he could do. 

Shiro breathes out shakily. “I’ve thought about it since waking up in your arms. Ever since.” He looks at Keith. “It’s worse now because of this— this facility showing up. What it could mean.” 

Keith hums. He strokes through his hair. “Allura’s checked you over so many times… you know you aren’t in danger of being controlled again. Haggar is gone. You’re you, Shiro.” 

Shiro closes his eyes, wanting to flinch back. 

Keith sways closer towards him. “But I understand.” 

“Keith…” 

“I understand,” Keith says again. His eyes look misty, soft and tender in a way Shiro doesn’t deserve. “Shiro… what you’re feeling—” 

They breathe together. 

“It’s not real,” Keith says, curling around him again. He’s always doing that, really— holding Shiro so close, so protectively, coiling himself around Shiro like he’ll protect him from the entire universe. If anyone could, it’d be Keith. 

“It might have been.”

Keith makes a sound, something that’s almost a scoff. “Shiro.” Keith studies his face, hands moving to cup his cheeks again. “It wasn’t.”

“In another universe—” 

Keith shakes his head, his palms warm where they cup Shiro’s face. “There’s no universe where I leave without you.” 

Shiro’s bottom lip wobbles but he refuses to cry. He forces himself to breathe. “If I’d let you ki—”

“I will _never_ leave without you,” Keith says, his words soft and intense as they so often are. Keith is always swearing his own vows to Shiro. His eyes burn in the starlight. “Never without you, Shiro.” 

Shiro always believes Keith. He knows that, to Keith, this is the truth. He knows Keith’s loyalty so intimately. He’ll never know what he did to deserve such a bright star in his life. Keith is nearly blinding. 

“I know you think about these things,” Keith says, expression turning mournful. “I know you think you’re— a monster, still. But do you think I’m going to agree with that, ever?” 

It makes Shiro almost smile. “I know you won’t.” 

“I know you,” Keith says. “You’d never hurt me. Never _you._ ” 

Keith’s touch is soothing. So sweet and gentle. He always treats Shiro so gently. 

Keith’s expression softens. “Anyway… We found our way out, didn’t we?” 

“You saved me,” Shiro agrees.

Keith hums. His thumbs swipe across Shiro’s cheeks. “I’ve done terrible things, too. We all have. You don’t blame me for what I did or didn’t do. And you’re definitely not blaming me for any sort of hypothetical situation, either.” 

Shiro loves so many things about Keith. In this moment, he can’t help but admire the quiet way Keith offers his truth. For Keith, it isn’t any platitudes, no overly saccharine reassurances. Just the truth as he sees it. 

“I love you, Shiro,” Keith says, again speaking the words like it’s as easy as breathing. His expression is tender, a smile cresting his lips like a sun rising. “You’re here. You’re Shiro.” 

Shiro laughs, a broken sound that punches out of him. “I love you.”

Keith kisses him and Shiro sinks into the feeling of it.

-

Shiro’s not sure what he expected, but when they reach the coordinates, it’s much like the facility he and Keith fought at— broken, dismantled, and robbed of its power. 

Shiro takes some time before he’s willing to leave Atlas to explore, afraid of what they might see. Keith is patient, waiting beside him until they go together. 

None of the clones are alive. They float in their tanks, unresponsive, all dark-haired and unscarred. They look like they’re sleeping. Without quintessence or the witch’s influence, there was nothing to keep them sustained. Some of them are already decomposing in the tanks. Keith pulls Shiro away from those quickly when he starts to waver, feeling like he’s about to be sick. He’s not sure if any human is meant to see their own demise in such hyper-focus. 

He bends over himself as he heaves, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. 

It gets easier after that, but not by much. They confirm that each clone is dead, no readings and no vital signs, and then Keith looks to Shiro to see what he wants to do next.

Shiro won’t meet his eyes as he says, “We should destroy it.” 

Keith doesn’t fight him on it. As Blades and as Paladins, Keith is technically higher ranked than Shiro now, but he follows his lead in this. He goes back to Atlas to find the remote explosives. 

Shiro stares at the main control hub of the facility, feeling nothing. He feels empty, empty in the way he made himself before an arena fight, his body singing with adrenaline and nothing else. He’s ready to fight but there’s nothing left to fight. 

He’s empty. 

He could maybe steal the main source of the control hub, bring it back to base for Pidge to scan and hack. Find more coordinates for other cloning facilities, because if this one exists then there must be others. 

He thinks of the scar in the shape of a handprint on his thigh, made the day of his escape. He’d sat in the skeleton of a massive creature, looking up at the burn marks in its bones, and wondered what killed it. It’s only now that he realizes it was clones before him, clones that failed to survive. How many others are out there, dead now that the witch is dead? 

How many more of him have been lost? How many more of him will never have their own reality? 

He startles when Keith touches his arm. Turning towards him, he must make a sound, a whimper or a sob or something, because the next moment he’s collapsing into Keith’s arms and Keith is there to catch him. 

Keith holds him, truly cradles him, and Shiro feels like a child. 

Keith whispers his name and it’s centering. He is alive. He has a name. He is not an empty vessel, not a monster, not a weapon. He wants it to be true. 

He is Shiro. He is precious to someone. He is beloved to Keith. Keith saved him. To Keith, he was worth saving. 

Shiro breathes in and lets it back out again. 

In another reality, maybe it all went differently. But Shiro wants to believe. He wants to trust Keith. _I will never leave without you._

Shiro breathes and straightens. Keith’s hands linger on him, dragging down his arms, unwilling to let go. 

“I’m okay,” he says and takes Keith’s hand. 

“It’s fine if you’re not,” Keith says. “This is fucked up.” 

Shiro nods, lifting Keith’s hand and kissing his palm. “Thanks, baby.” 

Shiro hesitates, looking back at the control hub. Decision made, it takes only a few moments for him to untangle the mainframe from its core, a small box that Pidge can hack into later for more information. In his hand, he holds the weight of himself. 

He doesn’t know how many more of these facilities might be out in the endless vacuum of space, but it’s his job to find them all. 

“It’s strange,” Shiro says, staring at a floating mirror image of himself, encased in liquid, no vital signs at all. “I never thought going to space would force me to think about big questions like identity and mortality. What makes you ‘you’, what comes after death.” He laughs, but there’s no humor to it. “I always thought the biggest question would just be ‘what’s at the end of a black hole.’” 

“We still need to figure that one out, too,” Keith says. 

Shiro laughs, although the sound fades away quickly. He smiles at Keith. Beautiful, perfect Keith. 

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks. “I— I can’t imagine this is easy for you, either.” 

Keith shakes his head and sways towards him, curling his arm around him. He hugs Shiro, cuddling up close and pressing his face into Shiro’s chest. Shiro holds him tight. This time, he’s the one to bend around Keith, enveloping him fully. Protecting him. Keith is precious and always worth protecting. 

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Keith says quietly. He clings to Shiro like he’s afraid to let go. 

Shiro presses a kiss to the top of his head and noses into his hair. 

“If I could kill Haggar all over again, I’d do it,” Keith mumbles.

“I know, sweetheart.” 

He thinks of all the choices that have brought him to this moment. He could have fought harder and been destroyed by Haggar aboard the Castleship, never made to betray his friends. He could have let Keith end him on another clone facility’s platform. He could have broken through at the sound of Keith’s call. He could have forced himself to fall from Keith’s grasp. He could have hidden from Allura’s soul reaching for him through the void. He could have never woken up at all. He could have pretended he remembered nothing, never looked at Keith and said, _I love you, too._

That has always been the thing, though. So often, choice has been robbed from Shiro. But just as much, he’s made his choices in life. 

He’s standing here because Keith made a choice. Because Shiro made a choice in turn. 

He is alive, and the reasons for that life might be tragic or strange or disturbing, but they are no less true. He is alive and despite it all, he is happy to be alive here with Keith. 

They climb back aboard the Atlas, the computer hub cradled in Shiro’s hands as Keith detonates the bombs. The facility blooms into bright, burning light, encasing it all. In another universe, maybe Shiro could give each clone of him a proper burial, but cremation will have to do. 

Of all the clones, he is the one alive. So he’ll need to live to outweigh that. He is alive despite the witch’s intentions. He is alive because of Keith’s refusal to let go. 

He is alive and he will live. He will live for all the versions of himself that didn’t. 

He turns to Keith and kisses his temple, nosing into his hair and holding close. That he gets to breathe Keith in, that he gets to feel him, that he gets to see him like this, is all because of Keith and everything he’s sacrificed to bring Shiro home. He won’t forget that. Never. 

_Never without you._

If he can be made into a monster, then that can be undone. The arena is gone. He is no weapon. The new arm, a redesign from the one Allura made for him, can’t be weaponized. He knows how to fight, but for defense only, and to better the universe. 

He is a mixture of two souls, both Shiro. He holds those memories, those thoughts, those hopes, those dreams. He holds it all, a small universe housed within a body created for him but no less his. 

There is no line within him between the original and the clone. There is only Shiro. 

Keith saw that first, even if it took time for Shiro to accept it, too, to see the clone as more than simply _it_ and _evil._ He is the clone. He is Shiro. He is both and neither. 

The facility’s fire dies down quickly. There’s no air in space, and fire can’t thrive without oxygen. 

Shiro takes Keith’s hand in his. Keith threads their fingers together and turns to look at him. 

-

Maybe it could have been like this, then:

“I love you,” Keith cries.

Shiro gasps. He breaks. He bends to Keith, collapsing against him. “I love you, too.” 

And they could have gone from there.

-

But no. There’s only one way it went. Keith knows he is loved and he saved Shiro. Even if it was a painful road, it’s the road they’re on. 

And they’re here. Together. 

“We’ll need to find the other facilities,” Shiro says quietly, examining the little black box of data he’ll give to Pidge. 

“Yes,” Keith says. No hesitation. 

There are so many things Shiro loves about Keith. For now, he’s grateful for his loyalty. For the strength he lends Shiro. 

But for now: “Let’s go home.” 

Keith nods, but hesitates, his hand in Shiro’s.

“What is it?” Shiro asks.

“It’s a dumb question,” Keith says, eyes never straying from Shiro’s. “But… Are you alright?” 

Shiro thinks of all the answers he could give, all the roads that lead to this moment. He looks at Keith and, despite it all, can only be grateful to know him. 

“… I think I am,” Shiro says. His heart beats and it’s for Keith. He smiles at Keith, leaning in closer towards him. “Thank you for being here with me.” 

Keith kisses him. It’s sweet, so light it’s nearly a breath alone. He presses his forehead to Shiro’s once he’s finished. They linger like that, breathing as one. 

“I’ll always be here,” he vows and Shiro knows it’s true. 

There are more clones to find, Shiro knows. More things to work through. But those are details, and the details will come. For now, he is here and he is grateful. 

He kisses Keith and lets him guide them home. He kisses Keith and doesn’t feel empty.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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